


soft then softly

by feeltripping



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dom Clarke, F/F, Power Dynamics, Strap-Ons, Sub Lexa, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltripping/pseuds/feeltripping
Summary: Lexa teases Clarke while she's at work; Clarke comes home for some fun.





	soft then softly

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even proofread this tbh

Lexa’s first text is benign. It’s a selfie, all soft lighting and pulled shut blinds, the sun just barely leaking through and pooling on her skin, striping the white sheets. Her hair is a mess of waves and curls and half obscured by the pillow and her lips are lazy, just barely curled up. Bare shouldered and no makeup and she’s radiant in the domesticity of it--the way Clarke knows her kiss would be sour and how she’d be a little grumpy until the first touch of too hot coffee on her tongue.

 _Tease_ Clarke sends back, slamming her locker shut and dropping her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. Lexa responds with the sleep emoji.

++

Clarke’s phone buzzes. She opens it without thinking, her pen cramping in her fingers, and chokes on her own spit. Lexa on her back in a sunbeam, the rectangle of yellow glowing on her bare torso. The soft gentle slope of her breast, the arch curve of her ribs and the dip of her sternum; Clarke’s hickey fading in the hollow of her throat.

_I’m going out with Raven_

Clarke texts back furiously. _Wait for me?_

She recieves another picture in response--the pretty little bullet vibe with the remote control Clarke bought three months ago, a replacement for the one that died when they were college. “Fucking hell,” Clarke mutters to herself. She checks her watch and groans.

++

By the time she’s gotten out of work, tripping overself to change and pack her things up, Lexa hasn’t texted again.

Clarke takes a deep breath before turning the ignition over. Makes herself drive real careful and at the speed limit all the way home. “I swear to god,” she mutters, as she walks up the stairs to their apartment. “If you’re at a fucking bar, I swear to god--” she opens her front door.

“Heyyyy!” Raven shouts from the living room. “She returns!”

Raven is sprawled on the floor, propped up on her elbows just enough to drink, straight from the vodka bottle.

Lexa is draped over the back of the sofa. “Hello Clarke,” she murmurs, all silk and self-satisfaction. “Did you have a good day at work?”

Clarke narrows her eyes. “Lexa,” she says, sweet as pie. “Darling. Would you help me in the bedroom for a moment?”

“Ew,” Raven says. “Clarke, c’mon. We’re playing a drinking game. Lexa is about to dish all the details about your dirty sex life.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “We’ll be back in a minute, I just need Lexa to help me with my bag.”

Lexa wobbles a little when she stands, but her eyes are clear. Halfway down the hall to their bedroom she crowds up against Clarke’s back and licks a wet stripe from the back of her neck up to her ear. “Hello Clarke.”

Clarke turns, nudging Lexa’s back up against the wall. She runs a hand down Lexa’s side, down her ribcage and up again, over her thin shirt. She nudges a knee between Lexa’s legs and presses forward. Lexa’s breath catches. She tenses up on her toes, then melts, spreading her legs and rocking forward. “You’re repeating yourself,” Clarke murmurs. Lexa’s head tips back and Clarke kisses the center of her throat, feeling Lexa’s swallow. “Where is it?”

“Where’s wha--” Lexa’s question breaks on a moan, Clarke’s teeth sunk into her neck. Clarke holds long enough it’ll bruise up real pretty before the night is over. 

“Give it to me.”

Lexa’s hand fumbles at her pocket. She drops the remote into Clarke’s waiting palm. 

Clarke kisses the corner of her mouth. “Good girl. Go keep Raven from eating us out of house and home.”

Lexa frowns. “I thought…?”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?” She creeps her fingers under Lexa’s wasitbad, wriggling down. “You don’t wanna follow my directions?” She finds the front of Lexa’s panties, rubbing just one fingertip against her through the fabric.

“Nothing,” Lexa moans. “It’s good. Feels good.” She tips her head back and casts Clarke a hopeful look.

Clarke laughs. She bites the other side of Lexa’s throat, to make it match. Rubs a little faster. “You’ll be good for me?”

“Yes,” Lexa whispers, up on her toes and trembly. “Be good for you.”

Clarke kisses her. Lexa tastes like gin and fruit juice. Gives her one last little press of fingers before withdrawing.

++

Clarke clicks the remote on the lowest setting before she gets in the shower. Takes her time getting showered and dressed. 

When she goes back into the living room Raven is shouting at the made-for-television sci-fi movie about gravitational pull, another beer cracked in her gesticulating hand. Lexa is sprawled quietly on the sofa, a blanket rumpled in her lap. She tilts her head up when Clarke comes in and they kiss. 

Clarke slides over the arm of the sofa and settles in, pulling Lexa to nestle in against her front. Under the blanket, her fingers undo the drawstring of Lexa’s sweats. Lexa’s knees fall apart, yielding, and Clarke kisses her hair absently, turning her attention to the television screen even while she nudges Lexa’s entrance to feel the vibrations. Lexa is soaked even with it on low, twenty minutes without any relief. She bites her lip in protest when Clarke’s fingers withdraw but doesn’t complain, and Clarke lets her lick Clarke’s fingers clean as a reward, rubbing gently at Lexa’s tongue. 

Clarke amuses herself by heckling the film with Raven and tucking the blanket high up under Lexa’s chin so she can pull Lexa’s shirt up to her neck and grope her breasts, squeezing and kneading and tugging at her nipples while Lexa trembles with the effort of holding still and quiet. She plays with the vibe settings at random, careful not to turn it all the way up to an audible buzz.

Eventually Lexa’s toes curl where they’re resting against Clarke’s calf and her hand spasms on Clarke’s knee. “Clarke,” she whispers, her breathing speeding up.

Clarke kisses her temple. Reaches down where she’s pushed Lexa’s sweatpants down to her knees and fishes the vibe out, flicking it quiet. Lexa exhales, her eyes wet and grateful. Clarke grins. “Don’t look so relieved,” she says into Lexa’s ear, so soft and low, and Lexa shivers.

It takes a little bit of wiggling and a thankful word the universe that Raven is completely engrossed with how much she hates the movie, but Clarke manages to fish out the small rubber dildo she’d tucked into her pocket before leaving the bedroom, digging into her hip the whole time they’ve been cuddling. Lexa feels the head of it nudge against her opening and her eyes widen. Clarke waits for Lexa’s deep breath and her tiny nod, then eases it in, slow but relentless, until the base is flush against her. She loves the way she can feel the second Lexa’s body yields, the tension flowing away from Lexa’s muscles as she goes limp and takes every inch Clarke gives her.

“Good girl,” Clarke praises. She tickles her free hand over Lexa’s hips. “Not long now.”

The last fifteen minutes of the film is all explosions and shouting and the clench unclench of Lexa’s hands on Clarke’s knees while Clarke fucks her all slow and easy with the dildo. The credits start to roll and Raven flails slightly while she rolls over, cracking her neck and peering down at her phone. “Mmm,” she says, yawns. She stumbles into the kitchen to toss the bottles and over the clank of glass against plastic Clarke leans in down close to Lexa’s ear.

“Don’t stop.”

She extricates herself and props Lexa’s knees up so the blanket dips and tents over her crotch, very faint movement of her wrists practically undetectable. She wipes her hand on her pants while she goes into the kitchen. “Did you call an uber?”

“Mm,” Raven agrees. She hops on one foot to get her shoes on most of the way, then shrugs. “Good enough.” She starts shuffling towards the door, humming. Clarke hurries after her.

“I’ll wait with you.”

++

She sees Raven off with a half hug and a wave, shivering in the cold night air before jogging back up and letting herself in. She hums, pleased, at the sight that greets her in the living room. The blanket tossed aside, Lexa’s legs folded and drawn up, one hand holding her panties to the side and the other working the toy in and out of her. Clarke makes a pleased noise, then goes down into the bedroom to get ready. She lays out towels on the immaculately made bed, a testament to the fact that she left for work first that morning. Shucks her clothes and lets them fall to the ground before fitting a harness around her hips and checking the fit of the straps in the mirror. Pulls her sweatpants back on and makes sure everything is tucked away.

She drops the bullet vibe on the bathroom counter to be cleaned and digs around in the bottom drawer inside the closet until she finds what she’s looking for. Comes back out into the living room to Lexa’s soft quick breathing and her low noises. Clarke leans over the sofa upside down and kisses the point of Lexa’s chin. “How drunk are you?”

Lexa touches the tip of her nose with one hand and Clarke nips it. 

“Cheeky.” Clarke leans over a little farther so Lexa’s eager mouth and her talented tongue can latch onto Clarke’s breast, mouthy until she finds Clarke’s nipple. Clarke strains, stretching a hand out to rub at Lexa’s clit while the toy bobs in and out of her. Lexa whines against her chest. Clarke stands up. She wiggles a hand expectantly and Lexa hands the dildo over, obedient. “I’m hungry.”

Lexa blinks at the topic change. “There’s leftovers,” she says, levering herself up almost awkwardly. “Lasagna, I think.” She starts to move past Clarke to the kitchen, stepping out of her sweatpants, and Clarke stops her with a palm against the small of her back. 

“Stick out your tongue.” She likes the way Lexa’s throat works when the dildo slides into her mouth. “Hold it.”

She guides Lexa to the back of the sofa, then applies pressure until Lexa drapes herself over it, wiggling until her toes are off the ground and her face is pressed into the seat cushion. Her hands fold over behind her back automatically, and Clarke kisses her back dimples while she tugs the string out of Lexa’s sweats and wraps it loosely around her wrists. It’s more for the look and the feel than to really restrain her, and Lexa settles into her position as Clarke finishes. Clarke bends to give Lexa one long slow lick before drawing her panties down, nipping at her calfs and kissing her ankles before standing, Lexa’s panties twirling around one finger. She balls them up and pulls Lexa up by her hair, muscles straining not to topple while Clarke tucks them into Lexa’s mouth around the dildo, hanging out because her mouth is so full. She rearranges Lexa back into position.

“Ready baby?”

“Mmhjm,” Lexa says, muffled through her makeshift gags.

Clarke traces a streak of wetness on Lexa’s inner thigh with a fingernail. She takes out the vibrator she’d taken from the bedroom and rubs the head of it through Lexa’s slick before thrusting it all the way in, one sure movement that has Lexa clenching up and moaning, stretched out enough by their foreplay it’s all pleasant stretch and fullness instead of painfully rough.

Clarke flicks it to medium and Lexa moans. Her feet kick out slightly when she hears Clarke move into the kitchen, but she stays quiet except for her soft wet noises while Clarke clatters around, reheating a plate. From her seat at their nook she can see Lexa spread out for her, the toy light glowing green as it buzzes away relentless. Lexa is whimpering by the time she’s done eating, visibly shaking.

Clarke goes out to check on her before washing up. “Don’t come,” she warns, and flicks the vibe up to high. Lexa keens, trembling violently, and Clarke slaps her ass to help ground her, two hits on each cheek. 

++

When Clarke comes out of the kitchen, dishes cleaned and dried and put away and the table wiped down, Lexa’s mouth is open, the dildo and her panties on the floor where they’ve fall. She’s panting and twitching and drooling, eyes squeezed shut and fighting to deny herself the orgasm she desperately wants. 

“What a messy thing,” Clarke coos. Lexa’s eyes slit open and roll at her, chest heaving. “Alright,” Clarke says, and removes the vibrator, flipping it to silent and going back down the hall to leave it in the bathroom. Lexa hasn’t moved a muscle when she comes back. Clarke sticks a hand down her pants and fishes out her rubber cock. Lexa goes totally still when she rests the head of it against her. “Deep breath,” Clarke says, hooking her hands under Lexa’s upper thighs and pulling her closer. 

It’s the perfect position to hit Clarke’s clit, the perfect height and angle, and she alternates between hard snaps of her hips and ragged messy grinding, using Lexa like a toy. She can feel the sweat down her spine and the strain in her calves. With every thrust the sofa rocks, the feet dragging slightly on the carpet. Lexa hands grip the edge of the cushion, pushing back against Clarke’s movements and slipping with sweat on the fabric.

Finally Clarke moans, dragged out of her chest, and goes up on her toes before slumping over her, panting on the back of Lexa’s neck, little aftershocks wracking her with shivers. She dots Lexa’s tattoo with kisses until she can stand all the way up, groaning with exertion as she undoes the harness and slides the straps through the metal loops. “Fuck,” she mutters, stepping back and stretching out her back until it cracks. Looks at the picture Lexa makes, the strap on still inside her, skin sweatslick and the tiny tremble running up her spine. Clarke teases a finger in alongside the firm rubber and enjoys the way Lexa clenches around her, the noise it pulls from Lexa’s throat. “Stay here.”

Clarke goes the bathroom, kicking her sweatpants off into a corner where later Lexa will sigh and pick them up and shake them at Clarke like she’s a misbehaving dog before tossing them into the hamper. When she goes back Lexa is dripping onto the floor, stringing and toes curled. Clarke catches a little bit of her slick on two fingers and pulls the strap on out, rubbing it back onto the head and up the shining shaft. “Alright, c’mon.” Lexa wobbles when she stands, slightly cramped after being in one position for so long, and Clarke steadies her. They kiss, messy and sweet, and walks down the hallway hand in hand.

Clarke eats her out as her reward, sloppy and loud and obscene. Lexa’s thighs clamp around her ears and Clarke strings her out until Lexa is babbling nonsense before she murmurs _come_ and feels Lexa fall apart on her tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> it was a sort of little bit of all the prompts I got today, with the exception of someone who asked for possessive Lexa, which I will try to fill tomorrow.
> 
> let me know what you think and catch me on tumblr @ feeltripping


End file.
